


A Foolish Creature and a Marked Man

by envy555



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Violence, rift sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 03:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16009010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/envy555/pseuds/envy555
Summary: The bond between Lotor and Allura has been growing consistently since their experiences on Oriande, and their emotional connection culminates in the discovery of the quintessence field. Upon returning, however, Lotor's peace runs out in the face of his past mistakes and an unlikely attacker. Allura learns the truth the hard way and struggles to move forward in spite of her feelings.





	1. Together

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to accompany a lovely piece of artwork for the Galra Reverse Bang challenge on tumblr. Check it out at the link below!
> 
> <https://naryrising.tumblr.com/post/178164007562/art-for-the-galrareversebang-lineart-by>

Passing through the trans-reality gate in the hollowed out innards of Daibazaal was like being unmade. Allura could feel her every molecule responding to the reality jump, vibrating and resonating like billions of meditative bells, separated briefly as individuals and reformed as a shadow simply passing through light. Lotor’s eyes stung from being forced to remain open for so long––he was unwilling to miss a moment of their undertaking, despite the fiercely pure white light that seared his mind and threatened the divergent potentialities of knowledge or calamity. He was too focused on the venture to revel in the molecular death and rebirth that Allura had encountered. Once they’d passed through the gate and into the light in full, however, both Lotor and Allura felt only a sense of wondrous certainty, stillness, and promise.

The emperor finally blinked.

The Sincline ship sailed smoothly through the endless surrounding space like a bird of prey through a whiteout. Orbs of quintessence, the two presumed, glittered like tiny white dwarves and drifted passively through the ship’s cockpit, undeterred by the thick layers of alchemically-enhanced metal walls and sturdy glass alternative windows. As an orb floated near Allura’s seat, she felt her heart swell. She’d spent the last few phoebs filled with fear and anxiety––fear of the unknown, combined with the fear of failure as an Altean alchemist and paladin of Voltron, compounded by the anxiety associated with further delaying Lotor’s discoveries––and as a result, Allura had been unable to fully appreciate the significance of this experience. In that moment, however, she was overwhelmed by it.

“Extraordinary,” she breathed, turning slightly in her seat to track the movement of the nearby quintessence sphere. Lotor could hear her shifting, but only barely. His mind was full, overflowing with pride, vindication, and an unidentifiable sense of comfort, and the bedlam of his thoughts nearly overshadowed the sounds of the present. A dream he’d sought to realize for centuries was coming true. He looked up, through the upper windows of Sincline at the glowing void, tones of blues and whites intermingling like lovers. The quintessence field that surrounded him was everything. Everything he’d worked for, everything he’d done for centuries… It finally meant something.

Lotor smiled to himself, thinking. _Extraordinary, indeed._

Silence settled over the ship for a dobosh or two, Allura lost in the magic and meaning and Lotor confronted by the probable impact of this place and its discovery on his future. The sense of comfort he’d felt before faltered when he thought about that future, but when he heard Allura sigh, the emperor remembered all of his motives. He remembered his plans, and his comfort returned in the wake of his internal rationalization. Lotor shook his head very slightly, trying to physically banish the apprehension, and powered up all of the functions on his monitors, agenda reestablished.

“The readings are beyond anything I could have imagined,” Lotor quietly remarked, dragging gloved fingers across the glowing violet consoles that surrounded him to cover all the potential bases and optimize their data collection. “What we do here today will change the course of the universe forever.” _Irreversibly so,_ he thought gloomily.

Allura paused and for just a tick she thought she could have correctly predicted the future if she’d only just attempted it. Her hand was open, palm supine as though prepared for a reading, but she was merely watching quintessence drift like dust motes, silhouetted against the dark background of her glove. It seemed to speak to her––she thought she could hear its whispers. It told her that she was a queen but that she deserved to be a goddess. She thought of Zarkon. She thought of Honerva. She wondered if this vulnerability was what the rift creatures had taken advantage of. The quintessence made Allura want to be _more,_ be _everything_ , and she realized abruptly how dangerous that desire could be. “In the hands of the wrong person this power could _easily_ corrupt,” the princess lamented, closing her hand along with her eyes, forcing away the temptations of this discovery and the pain it could bring.

Lotor glanced over his shoulder at her, biting his tongue and wondering at her implication. Was that remark intended as a reminder of the horrors his anathema of a family had unleashed? Or did Allura know to question him? He longed to tell the princess that he would atone for the sins of his father––it was his reason for pursuing this discovery in the first place. For Altea. Then, for Allura. “Together, we’ll see it never does and continue the work your father started so long ago,” he stated confidently, will reinforced by affection and purpose. Allura beamed behind Lotor as she often did when he grouped himself with her. She had become addicted to adverbs that held promises of more time with Lotor. She believed him, and she had faith in their ability to shelter the universe from risk of corruption, together. “Now, let’s see if we can collect some samples.”

Time passed. It felt simultaneously like an eternity and a blink of an eye. The view outside of the Sincline ship remained the same no matter how far they drifted from the gate. Samples were collected effortlessly. Lotor’s agenda was on track––he discreetly obtained, logged, and auto-coded the necessary readings back into the ship’s systems.

Allura documented all that she could, but she knew that much of her work would be conducted later on the Castle. The implications of the data from these pure quintessence samples affected her father’s previous research and the future of the universe in kind. Analysis was not a task to be taken lightly here. Allura already had experiments unfolding in her racing mind. The list of potential methods to upgrade Lotor’s ships, the Castle, and the Voltron lions was endless. For a tick, she worried about the risk of weaponization but quickly dismissed the thought, reassured by Lotor’s earlier guarantees. She pondered the applications of quintessence to the medical field––it was life, in its purest form. Were there any ailments that it _couldn’t_ cure, if properly refined? She questioned evolution––would the genetic makeup of a species be affected by quintessence generations from now? If so, would disease resistance increase exponentially until a form of immortality was achieved? Would the threshold for quintessence corruption vary across species, or remain the same? If a corrupted individual were to reproduce, would his offspring be corrupted…?

While the princess’s mind jumped from thought to thought, the emperor’s finally slowed to focus on singular items. He found himself staring out the upper window of Sincline once more. Lotor wondered if it had looked like this when his parents had been engulfed by the rift. It was beautiful. It seemed like a tolerable place to die. Part of him thought he ought to remember the rift and his parents’ death, unborn though he’d been. As a child, Lotor thought he’d cheated death. As an adult, he realized that death had cheated him––immortality meant very little in the face of the universe he’d inherited. But here, in this field of never-ending life, with a woman he admired and respected and yearned for, Lotor felt true sovereignty. He’d never really been one to put stock in destiny, but here that was different. Life was his fate, and he was illuminated by it in this place. “I can feel the quintessence coursing through me,” he noted, more to himself than to Allura, though he knew that he craved her response and concurrence. He craved her.

“It’s like my spirit, my whole being, is more alive,” she replied, voice breathy and distant. Lotor could see her face in his mind as she spoke. Her sentiment struck home with his heart as he looked into the cerulean depths of her eyes and saw the reflected quintessence orbs there, glittering like stardust.

“Allura,” he whispered, seeking the bottom of those pools of her eyes, trying to find a foothold. There was no bottom––he would drown if he dove in, but he did it anyway. Little did he know that she was having the exact same experience, seeing his face without looking, blinded by the golden sunshine yellow of his sclerae. She could hear his whisper but she didn’t reply. Instead, she extended her arm out and upwards until her hand touched his cheek. The flesh beneath her glove felt warm, seemed soft, and he leaned into her caress. Her fingertips danced across the side of his face and along his jawline, tracing muscles clenched for decaphoebs to hide true feelings, until she reached his ear. She knew it might be strange, but she sensed that he understood––the elongated concha appealed to her. It reminded her of Altean architecture, peaked, strong, and long-forgotten, while also feeling new and foreign.

Lotor took a deep breath before reaching out to mirror Allura, and until his thumb and pointer made contact with her cheekbone he feared this was only a dream. It wasn’t, and he began to trace the Altean mark on the right side of her face as delicately as he could with his glove-covered thumb, cupping her rounded cheek with his remaining fingers. Chosen.

Allura moaned and Lotor felt himself forget the vocabulary that had taken him centuries to accumulate. Her fingers were on his lips now and he felt he was rapidly losing more of what tied him to the universe. He only cared about the connection to her. This was fated too. It was right, logical. The princess dropped her hand for a tick to remove both of her gloves––perhaps a risky choice in an unknown atmosphere, though, when had they removed their helmets?––before returning both hands to Lotor’s face. At the sensation of her skin on his, Lotor praised his cursed birth for the first time. Immortality had value. He was here, now, with Allura, the result of a cosmic alignment of some sort that had forced him to suffer for millennia while she slept, only to end up together. He praised that suffering for ultimately carrying him to this bliss.

“I’ve waited an eternity for this,” Lotor repeated with a burgeoning certainty. He’d said the exact same thing earlier, regarding their trip to the quintessence field, but now he knew what he’d really anticipated.

Allura’s thoughts were similar to Lotor’s. Ten thousand years of frozen regret and a sense of abandonment were dissolving at the speed of sound. Her resolve to create a promising future for herself and every galaxy she passed through was growing exponentially. She wasn’t sure that she’d waited an eternity––time felt like a hateful lie––but she knew she’d definitely waited too long. Delicately, she slid one of her hands down Lotor’s neck and around to the nape, beneath his thick silvery hair. Her fingers traced along his spine until her hand was stopped by his collar and her heart was stopped by the low, throat-vibrating growl that the emperor emitted at her touch. She looked back up from the dip where his neck seemed to blend flawlessly into his shoulder beneath the bulk of his armor to seek his face. Lotor’s eyes were closed, his lips parted. As she watched, those two reversed. His chest rose and fell twice, shakily, before he finally spoke: “Princess, may I…?” He trailed off, but his head had dipped lower, closer to hers.

Allura could not resist such courtesy when coupled with her own growing need. Her hands returned to the sides of his face with urgency, and she lifted herself onto her toes while pulling him down to meet. Their lips collided like asteroids––silent, ancient, and unwavering. In a moment of surprise and disbelief, Lotor forgot his name. Allura felt like she remembered hers for the first time since the demise of her homeworld. They froze, rapturous, until Allura pulled away, realizing how demanding and inconsiderate her response had been. Was the quintessence affecting her behavior?

Her lips were millimeters from his as she whispered, “Lotor, I’m sorry, you were so polite and I failed to respond in kind. Have I offended––?” His mouth muted hers with passion and intent so strong that it knocked the breath from her lungs. Shock replaced by joy, she poured her own passion back into him, pressing her body against his and receiving another very encouraging growl in response. The princess pressed one palm to Lotor’s chest while her other hand climbed his body and entwined in his hair. The emperor’s arms wrapped around Allura, one finding purchase near the base of her spine, one between her shoulder blades. He was craning towards her, losing himself in her lips to the point that he didn’t notice the recklessness of his jaw. Lotor’s sharp canine teeth hooked into Allura’s lip and she gasped, eyes flicking open again to meet his. He forced his jaw to release, fearing the pain he’d already caused, but was instead pleasantly surprised to feel her bite him back. She didn’t have his Galra fangs so her nip was much tamer, but her message was clear. Lotor gave in to the recklessness again, tasting her blood and sucking her whole lower lip into his mouth with a groan. He let it slip back out languidly and moved his higher placed hand up to the nape of her neck, supporting her, holding her to him. Lotor’s claws had extended, and he put them to good use by kneading Allura’s scalp beneath her rapidly unwinding bun. She moaned at the surprisingly tender stimulation by such sharp points––his clearly deliberate caution in the face of his passion was impressive.

Allura dissociated briefly, wondering if this ardor was simply the result of the overwhelming effect of the quintessence or if it was based in real emotion. She deflated, upset that she felt the need to question this. The emotions behind this present behavior, for her, at least, were real. Lotor meant so much to her––he’d done so much _for_ her and helped her grow beyond the static life she’d been leading. Allura felt linked to him, and her interest had existed long before this, developed sometime between Lotor’s capture and their discovery of Oriande. All of this was real, and true, and not a simple quintessence-enhanced sensual rampage.

Reassured of her sentiments, Allura snapped back to the present. _This is everything I want_ , she mused, moaning again in satisfaction as Lotor bent her backwards in order to press himself closer. Allura ground her hips against his and felt his whole body tremble in response. She chuckled in pride against his never-ending kiss, fisting her hand in his velveteen hair.

 _More,_ quintessence whispered and Allura happily acquiesced, utilizing her remarkable strength to pull Lotor’s hair back, forcing him to straighten. Impassioned eyes met hers; he looked like a carnivorous beast peeled away from a fresh and appetizing kill. Both royals gulped in air after breathing in only each other for such a substantial span of time. Allura could feel her chest rising and falling only slightly slower than her heart was beating. She watched as Lotor, fully upright with clawed hands now trailing her waist, shifted his hungry gaze from her face to her bust. At that, Allura gave in completely to her wants and yanked Lotor’s hair like reins, backwards and down until he fell gracefully into his pilot’s seat. She rode the motion, landing with equal grace to straddle his lap.

Lotor’s mind was filling with white noise and ecstasy. He felt Allura’s small frame press against him and watched her lean in to kiss along the length of his jaw to the point of his ear and back again. Her delicate little hands were pressing down hard on Lotor’s wrists, pinning them to the armrests of his seat and leaving his claws to dig into his prone palms with lust. How he wanted to touch her! How he longed to blur the lines between their bodies! His arms jerked against her clutch while her warm tongue meandered along his carotid artery. Lotor snarled as he caught a whiff of her luxurious hair, his hunger for this divine Altean eradicating his self-control.

“My emperor,” she panted in his ear, fully aware of the impact she had on him.

Well, two could play. Lotor closed his eyes again and hid a devious smirk. “Allura, please. I need you.”

She was quiet, quiet, and then she chuckled, her mirth like a symphony and the sudden release of pressure on his wrists like a breath of fresh air. “Oh, is that so?” Before he could reach out for her, she caught one of his arms in the air once more and tapped the correct code into his vambrace, unlocking it. Had he ever told her that code? It clicked open and she lazily tossed it aside, repeating the action on the other arm as he watched.

“Yes, most certainly,” Lotor murmured, relaxing back against the seat as she continued removing pieces of his armor from his chest, arms, and shoulders. This was a new experience for him, to be fully undressed by another, and it was oddly sobering––the white noise was fading. Lotor desperately wanted her to strip him bare in multiple ways, and seeing his physical shell come apart at her touch instilled a sense of solemnity over the whole experience, broken only by Allura’s smile. His armor was gone from his waist up, leaving only a durable bodysuit between the princess’s touch and his skin.

“Lotor…” she started, guiding his deft hands to her throat and the gorget that wrapped it. Somehow, he found that he knew the code to her armor as well, and removed the first piece swiftly. He reached for the cuirass and attached rerebraces and pauldrons next, but paused to trace the symbolic “V” that sat centered over her breasts. Her breath hitched before she continued. “I need you, as well.”

For the shortest of ticks ever recorded, Lotor questioned the morality of these choices. This was probably wrong. The emperor loved Allura more than he thought he was capable, but he would hurt her eventually. Though optimistic about the long-term outcome of that inevitable hurt and confident in the necessity of his lies, he was lying to her nonetheless. He felt a flash of guilt, but it was thwarted by the return of the white noise. Not only did he truly need her, but he wanted her. “Show me how you need me, princess,” Lotor said in a voice softened by yearning.

It was like his words opened wormholes that created jumps in time, filled only with the sounds of their breathing and bodies moving in synchrony. Neither Lotor nor Allura remembered removing the remains of their armor below the waist. Time skipped that. They both distinctly recalled taking ticks with their mouths apart to peel their bodysuits down as far as they could, however, while Allura still straddled the half-Altean. Lotor would never forget the reveal of her torso––it was a remnant of an ancient magic, he thought. Smooth, sculpted, hedonistic in its rarity and beauty. He’d frozen for a dobosh before taking her breasts into his mouth and hands one at a time, basking in their ability to be both unyielding and supple. Allura had been surprised by Lotor’s hidden physique, and how perfectly he embodied the combination of Galra and Altean. He was lean but his muscles were toned. His skin was soft but his body felt dense. His shoulders sloped gently but his arms were commanding. The dichotomies were unending, and she’d pondered them all while tracing the curves of his chiseled chest with her tongue.

Then, time seemed to jump again. How had they removed their bodysuits in entirety without standing up? Lotor’s face was buried in Allura’s chest, her fingers wrapped behind his head and her mouth pressed to its crown. His hands were roaming her lower body, moving across her thighs, hips, rear, sides, lower back, and beneath her breasts as though he were painting on a very petite and taut canvas. As he scraped his fangs across one of her nipples, her head lolled back and her knees dug into the sides of his thighs. Repeating his action on the other nipple, Lotor wrapped both hands around her hips, holding them in place. Allura whined, bucking against his grasp, which only tightened. She whimpered again, knowing that the pressure he applied to her skin would likely bruise her, but she wanted it––a new mark of the chosen, in a sense. Allura forced her head to arch forward again so that she could nibble on Lotor’s ear. He growled once more, the rumble reverberating through the tissue of her breast and stimulating her further.

Allura could not keep her eyes open. Everytime she opened them, her vision was flooded by the abundance of quintessence orbs that seemed to have surrounded them. The density with which they’d gathered was blindingly bright, and in addition to that, Allura’s eyes fluttered closed each and every time Lotor touched her in a way that made her insides convulse with pleasure. He wanted to be shown how she needed him? It was time.

Allura dug her nails into the sides of Lotor’s hands, loosening his clutch on her hips. He pulled back slowly from her chest and licked his lips as they made eye contact yet again. Both felt themselves getting caught in each other’s gaze once more, until Allura let her knees slide further from Lotor’s thighs, lowering herself onto him. His vision blurred as she started to move, rubbing herself against his erection, desperately seeking _more_. Allura’s methodical hip movements became shaky along with her respiration. Lotor’s firm hold on her sides had returned, but now with the intent of helping her. He dragged his teeth down her neck, threatening but arousing, teasing her cleavage. She was getting wetter, sliding along his length with ease. Her face reflected the euphoria she was nearing, but her pace slowed and she sighed.

“Allura…?” Lotor questioned, reading her face, desperate for her release and its effect on his own. “Please, don’t stop.” He reached down, sliding his clawed fingers into her wetness as benevolently as he could. A high pitched mewl escaped her throat at his touch and he gleefully applied more pressure. She wriggled against him.

“More,” she breathed, fingers digging into his broad shoulders as she gripped them for support. Lotor obliged, inserting an additional finger and working them harder. “ _More_ ,” Allura repeated, louder and in a tone dripping with libido. The emperor was happy to serve. He jerked his hand away, lifted the princess up enough to maneuver beneath her, inserted himself, and then forced her back down steadily, filling her with his girth. The royals inhaled shakily as their bodies shifted from two to one. “Quiznak,” Allura hissed, head drooping until her forehead met Lotor’s.

He chuckled at her reassuring response and reached up to cup her cheek. It was warmer than before, flushed. “Shall I continue, my princess?” Everything in his body and mind was screaming that he needed to press on, but Allura’s satisfaction was of equal concern.

He felt her smile against his temple. “Why, my emperor, I demand that you do.” She guided a stray piece of his hair behind his ear as she spoke, and before he could make any further moves to please her, she began to roll her hips to and fro at that same steady pace from before. Lotor felt himself buried deep inside her, hitting her walls with each shift of her body. Allura’s eyes were closed and her hair had been unleashed in entirety, tendrils curling along her bare frame, glowing against her skin.

Lotor was transfixed, nearly frozen by her beauty and vigor until she bucked against him in a way that clearly demanded attention. He took the cue and titled his hips forward to align more securely with hers and began to shift in opposition with her movements to create further friction. He reached around to trace her spine with the tips of his claws and was pleased to see her skin instantly erupt in goosebumps, though her concentration went unbroken.

It went like this for a few doboshes, their bodies rocking together in tandem, their thoughts entirely unanimous for the first time since they’d initially entered the quintessence field. However, their gratification was reaching a plateau. They could have remained in that state for hours, but the need for _more_ was bubbling within. Neither of the royals expressed this growing threshold for each other’s touch, but both knew.

The emperor acted with a snarl of intent, sliding his large hands from Allura’s delicate waist to her thighs to beneath. He scooped her rear up, pulling her to him, and stood quickly, using her weight to thrust harder. She leaned back in his arms, trusting his strength, and laced her fingers together behind his neck while wrapping her legs around his midsection. His claws were digging into her and that alone brought them both closer to their intended destination, but it wasn’t enough. Lotor longed for control, for power. He stepped forward, still sheathed within his princess, and stepped again until he was close enough, before he leaned forward and slammed her down atop the Sincline ship’s main console pad, knocking the wind from her lungs and drawing forth a coy smile that only touched the corners of her lips.

Sincline’s computer sounded a warning tone, but Lotor wrenched his hands away from Allura long enough to reach out and power the ship down entirely, casting the interior of the cockpit into complete darkness, lit only by the very bright glow of the lingering quintessence orbs…Or so he thought. Registering a small gasp from the princess, Lotor’s eyes snapped to Allura’s––she was beaming. Her Altean marks were luminous and only then did he notice the gentle rosy-white warmth emanating from his cheekbones and tinting his peripheral vision. The emperor smiled, at peace with this expedition and his newly understood relationship with fate. They were chosen, for everything they’d done and for each other.

He settled into place above Allura, drawing a torturously smooth figure eight with his hips and resting his palms on the back frame of the console, near her head. She reached up, hands shaky, and caressed the developed muscles along his triceps and forearms before latching on securely. She wanted to spend centuries wrapped in those compelling arms. Lotor began again, rolling his hips forward to meet her and back to the furthest point without separating. His pace was indulgent at first––he was worshipping at the exposed altar of the last remaining Altean royal. It didn’t last much longer, as her grip tightened on his wrists and he plunged harder and deeper. Worship turned to ravage.

The silence of breath settled in once more, filling the cockpit.

Allura broke it, body aching. “Faster.” Lotor groaned and kneaded a single clawed hand into the cloud of her hair, ensnared a fistful, and held her down with it. He didn’t want this to end, but as he forced all of the muscles in his mid and lower body to propel his motion at a higher rate of speed, he feared the time was coming.

“Allura…” he murmured. When had his throat become so dry? He needed to warn her that their time, for now, was almost up. On his end, at least.

“Please, just a little longer,” she begged, eyes rolling. Allura was so close to release––it would only take ticks. She begged the quintessence to sustain Lotor’s stamina just a tad longer. Whether it did or not, he maintained her requested pace and sank into her more ferociously than before. His whole body seemed to be trembling, within her and outside. Allura drank in the view––his hair, not quite disheveled but certainly less tame than usual, his skin, vibrant and flushed a slightly darker shade of lilac than normal, his face, teeth digging into his lower lip, cheeks glowing, dark eyelashes flickering. She knew that this view was hers, and so was he. This would not be the end.

Something in that thought granted her the peace of mind to relax and give in. Allura cried out in relief as a wave of feverish warmth shot through her from Lotor, touching every extremity and titillating her soul. She quaked in response to him, and as those rebounding shockwaves reached her face again, she heard an intense ringing in her ears.

Lotor felt Allura’s balmy surrender and subsequent tremors, pushed through while she rode them, and then allowed himself to follow. With a final exhilarating jerk, he thought, _Vrepit Sa._ The “killing thrust.” He spilled into her with a growl that rumbled up from his groin and settled in his throat before pitching him forward to press against Allura, hand still woven in her hair. The last of his growl came out as a whisper in her ear.

Doboshes passed in that same breathy silence and collapsed position as their bodies loosened and their minds slowed, Allura still filled with Lotor and Lotor’s arms cradling Allura. Finally, the emperor lifted his head with a soft sigh and pressed his lips to the princess’s temple. “You are the most divine creature in the universe,” he imparted, continuing to kiss his way along her cheekbone and around her eye, using the tip of his nose to nuzzle her tender skin.

She grinned. “You _are_ my universe.” For her, in that tick at least, it was true. Nothing mattered more. Allura wasn’t discarding her responsibilities, of course, but she was aware of a shift in her priorities––one which was not quintessence driven. At her words, Lotor pulled back to search her face. She wondered if he’d been told lies to that effect before. His lips were touched by a frown, but it fled quickly and he leaned forward once more to plant his mouth on hers.

They didn’t speak again, but Lotor eventually stood and painstakingly extricated himself from Allura before helping her to her feet. He took her hand and guided her back to his seat. Time skipped again, and as he sat to pull her onto his lap, he was startled to see that they had donned their bodysuits once more. Allura was equally surprised, but sank backwards onto his lap irregardless, resting her head in the crook of his neck and breathing in his scent. He arched forward, wrapping his arms around her waist and rubbing his flushed, still-glowing cheek against hers. The quintessence orbs that had been clustered so tightly around them began to disperse, and the cockpit grew darker. Lotor instructed Allura to turn Sincline back on, and she leaned forward in his hold to press the correct keys. The ship powered up, illuminating everything with an amethyst hue.

They sat with each other, tranquil, for what felt like ages. Allura traced the tendons that ran the length of Lotor’s hands, wondering at the things they’d done. Lotor inhaled the sweet bouquet of her hair and drifted on the sleepiness it brought on.

Neither of them could recall who first brought it up, but sooner or later someone said, “We ought to head back.” Both of them had been thinking it, albeit reluctantly, as their interest in each other was met by their desire to study this discovery in the comfort of their shared lab. Allura tilted her head back with a sigh to press a last kiss to Lotor’s jawline, and he reached up to stroke her neck from behind. They parted, and time jumped again––Allura had returned to her seat without moving, and both she and Lotor had replaced their armor in full, including their helmets.

It was odd, and they were aware of it now that they weren’t distracted by the initial influence of the quintessence. Lotor frowned, turning Sincline around as Allura typed in the sequence code to reopen the transreality gate. They passed through again and this time both the emperor and the princess closed their eyes as their beings were unraveled.

The remainder of the flight beyond the gate was rather uneventful but for their silent reflection. They had discovered a great deal in the rift, about both quintessence and their feelings for each other. Introspection was inevitable. Allura examined one of the violet displays before remarking, “We’ve only been gone for a little over a varga… It felt so much longer…” Her voice tapered off.

As they neared the Castle, Lotor activated the landing sequence for Sincline. They docked without error and powered down the ship before standing and climbing out of the cockpit on rickety legs. Lotor’s thighs felt numb and his abdominal muscles were sore from their earlier repetitive motions. Allura was lightheaded, but in a nearly pleasant way that mimicked the sensation of floating untethered in space. It was detrimental to her balance, however––the emperor’s hand was outstretched for hers, offering assistance for the leap from the ship to the hover lift, and as Allura took it and hopped to meet him, her knees gave out and she crashed against his chest.

Lotor caught her with ease, one arm reinforcing hers and another wrapping around her waist in a now familiar and fitting way. As she steadied herself against him and looked into his eyes, he felt a stronger resolution to their encounter than he had before––one that he felt certain was not affected by quintessence exposure or biases towards the progression of his plans. He lifted her hand in his to his chest. “We accomplished something amazing today,” he started, softening as Allura blinked sleepily, “and it would have never happened had it not been for you.”

Allura had trouble meeting his gaze, suddenly exhausted beyond belief from the weight of the quintant, but she had no trouble searching her feelings for the answer that felt most true. “It is a moment that I truly will never forget.” It took all of her energy, but she looked up at him through the jungle of her lashes and smiled. He leaned in, eyes closing in serenity, and their lips met once more.

This was an entirely new kiss, filled with pure hope and devotion and the promise of a new day together.

“Allura, may we… I don’t want to be apart from you. May we share a room tonight?” Lotor’s tone betrayed tension but the chiseled line of his jaw suggested confidence.

The thought of his presence in her suite made Allura’s stomach flip. “Lotor, I would have it no other way,” she said, reaching out to drag her gloved fingers back along his neck to his shoulder. As she looked at her hand, however, she frowned. “First, we should go through the decontamination chamber. My thoughts in the rift were my own but we should be cautious of the long-term effects of quintessence until we know more.”

Lotor nodded pensively, guiding her to the aforementioned decontamination chamber. “Agreed.” He poured over the control panel on the chamber’s exterior, adjusting the settings to cover the widest range of disinfection.

“We should also check in with the others,” Allura continued. “I’m sure they’re worried.”

“If we must,” Lotor sighed in a tone dripping with false annoyance. He smirked at her as she chastised him with an eye roll. They entered the chamber together. “Of course, you’re right. No doubt they’ll be pleased to see their princess returned to them in one piece. I don’t dare test the wrath of Coran.” The smirk still played at the corner of his mouth.

Once decontaminated, the royals swung by the armory and swapped their uniforms for more relaxed clothes, unwilling to suffer the potential admonishment of the others in discomfort. For Lotor, being seen without his armor felt like a display of weakness––he tended to avoid it at all costs, especially in front of the paladins of Voltron. Still, he’d removed his uniform once already on that quintant and it had only lead to revelry. Perhaps a repeated risk would yield further joys.


	2. Marked Man

The walk from the armory to the bridge was pleasantly quiet. Lotor found himself longing to lie in Allura’s arms in blissful privacy, and his previous false annoyance with checking in with the paladins was rapidly being replaced by sincere irritation. He knew it was selfish––though he felt he deserved to be selfish every now and then, considering all he’d sacrificed––but his need for intimacy with Allura sans quintessence was all-consuming.

Lotor was confident that his actions with the princess in the rift were his own, but he needed to assess his priorities without any other extraneous factors affecting his thoughts. He had to decide just how much to alter his current collision course with her heart––how to paint the whole picture of his choices for her correctly without turning her away for good. Time with Allura was precious for a myriad of reasons, and Lotor was loath to share it with Voltron.

Additionally, the emperor was suffering from an odd tingling along his spine. It was a normal instinctive response for full Galra, but it rarely if ever affected Lotor. In that dobosh, he simply attributed it to his growing anxiety regarding the imminent convergence of his newfound love and his many centuries of planning. Still, he couldn’t shake that shiver that toyed with his spine like a children’s rattle.

Seeking distraction, Lotor instead took in the majestic view of the vaulted hallways of the Castle ship. Allura seemed indifferent towards them, but even these simple halls held power over Lotor’s emotions. Every step they took traversed the surface of a very rare relic of Altean culture, architecture, and technology, and every inch of it was crafted to serve a purpose––a purpose that was part of Lotor’s heritage. He adored this Castle of Lions and only in that moment did he realize just how frustrated he was with restrictions that the paladins had put in place to hinder his ability to explore it freely.

Lotor took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders back, shedding his frustration. He’d have plenty of time to admire the Castle later.

Allura belonged here, he mused, the svelte tendrils of her loose white hair bouncing in perfect complementary opposition to the stiff symmetry of their surroundings, her negligee whispering across the solid floor. Lotor was enthralled with how perfectly she blended into the background while also dominating the foreground of this setting, and he was filled with an intense urge to pull her into his arms for another kiss then and there. She caught him staring and flashed a curious and still sleepy smile, questioning his focus. Lotor found that he had no words. He just beamed atypically back at her and reached for her hand. They were very near to the bridge now, so he decided a kiss could wait until later––he settled for the delicacy of her fingers in his for the last few meters of their walk instead. Affection spread across him from their connection and it seemed to soothe the prickle in his neck until, of course, the automatic doors of the bridge slid open and the royals were greeted with scowls and standoffish posture.  

They dropped each other’s hands.

Lotor’s heart rate skyrocketed instantly and the the tingling intensified, starting to spread through him as they entered the bridge. Was his body just responding to the tension in the room or was there more? He took a deep breath and searched the faces of the others for answers as Allura questioned, “What’s going on?”

Without warning, a tall female Galra and the ex-paladin, Keith, leapt into view behind them, weapons drawn. Lotor’s heart rate sped up even more. Was Keith larger? How had Lotor overlooked them? He peered at them defensively over his shoulder, stifling a snarl and cursing his previous dismissal of his instincts. He was still doing his best to remain calm, but he prepared to unleash the full manipulative power of his characteristically silver tongue, if necessary. In the same vein, Lotor’s hand was at his side, open and ready to summon his broadsword.

“Allura,” said the one called Lance, raising his red blaster and pointing it at them, “Step away from Lotor.” So this was it––it was beginning. Lotor had done everything he could to be tolerant and open-minded of this particular paladin’s youthful naivete, attempting to admire it as a factor of innocence. However, in the face of Lance directing Allura like he had any form of authority over her, Lotor’s patience was wearing quite thin.

The princess stepped in front of Lotor in the most charming way possible, given the stress of the situation. Her body was far too small to really block his and her presence did nothing to deter the two beings behind him, but the gesture was still endearing. “I will do no such thing. Tell me what’s happening here,” she commanded, and her tone made Lotor’s heart flutter with respect and admiration despite his burgeoning internal anxieties.

A few very weighty ticks passed in silence and Lotor’s gaze flicked around to search the eyes of his tentative colleagues until he discovered a new pair staring back at him. The violet eyes of a vaguely familiar Altean.

It was over, then.

“Lotor is a––” the Altean started, stepping forward to emphasize her coming claims, long blonde hair swinging with the energy of adolescence. Lotor’s reaction to her presence was so quick and guttural that he very briefly gained complete awareness of the functions of his autonomic nervous system. He felt his pupils dilate, his heart skip more than one beat before accelerating, his lungs constrict, his claws elongate, and his brain begin to pour forth a bounty of hormones to stimulate his fight-or-flight response to the anticipated tirade.

In the confusion, no one had noticed Shiro, the black paladin, doubled over and pressing his palms to his temples in torment. No one paid attention to Shiro until he brought the Altean’s rant to a full stop by lunging forward. He moved with all of the prowess and grace of his black lion, arm glowing, and slashed Lotor open like a plastic bag.

Lotor had been trying so desperately to predict the outcome of his incoming verbal lambasting that he’d missed everything all together, unaware of Shiro’s motion until he felt his own cursed blood fly free from three deep gashes across his ribs. He smelled his flesh burning. Lotor stumbled back in shock, knees buckling, but before he could even tilt his head down to assess the damage the wounds began to cauterize, taking on an enchantingly electric aquamarine hue. He might have appreciated the pulchritude of the shade at another time, but Shiro had continued to move, using the momentum of his earlier swing to spin and body slam Lotor, throwing him to the ground and sending him skidding towards the entrance like a fallen ice skater.

Another tick passed as everyone on the bridge, Lotor included, tried to process the situation, but Shiro’s attacks didn’t cease. Coughing and ignoring the scorching pain in his right side, Lotor scooted back, trying to drag himself and summon his sword at the same time while the paladin advanced, motions robotic.

 _Get up! Up!_ Lotor’s brain was screaming at him. _Fight!_

Shiro’s arm, still glowing, was extended and Lotor knew that it was pointed directly at his throat. Reality hit––he was about to die. Here, at the hands of an alleged ally? It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Lotor managed to assume a crouching position, ready to throw himself in a shaky dive to evade death for just a few more ticks. Instead, Shiro was knocked off course by an incredibly strong and well-executed front kick from Allura, which landed solidly on his thigh, just above his knee, and sent him reeling.

From there, pandemonium broke out. All of the paladins and even Coran leapt into action, divided amongst themselves to try to stop Shiro’s unexplainable rampage or to pin down Lotor. The result was that neither task was accomplished. The black paladin’s arm was no longer glowing as he fought off his teammates, but his eyes had a lemon tint that was only truly perceivable when he slowed down. Lotor watched him move for a tick, saw him land a particularly painful looking punch on the side of the yellow one’s head, and only then managed to put together the pieces. That was _not_ the black paladin after all, but a lamentable creation of Zarkon’s witch. Everything got instantaneously worse as the emperor realized the probable impact of Haggar’s spy.

Everything was falling apart. It was time to extricate himself from this disaster.

Lotor attempted to stand once more, but the scorching slashes from Shiro’s high-tech prosthetic were impacting his body more than he could have anticipated. His vision spun and he nearly vomited as he crashed back to the ground, hands and knees only barely preventing a faceplant. Pain erupted through him from the jarring motion. Trembling and coughing again, Lotor heard a stray blaster go off very near to his head. His ears rang. He tried to call forth his sword but the thought was interrupted as he felt small hands slip under his armpits and begin to drag him upright.

“They’ve all gone mad!” It was Allura. Thank the Ancients. He resisted the urge to flail in her grasp and instead allowed her to try and lift him. She’d barely raised him a few inches from his knees when the searing along his ribs was replaced by a pain so intense that Lotor’s whole body spasmed and a scream wrenched itself from his lungs. Though his eyes had trouble focusing through that white-hot ache and the subsequent tears, he thought he saw the booted foot of the Galra female swinging away, recoiling from a malicious roundhouse kick. His back arched away from Allura’s grip in agony and Lotor slumped to the ground, landing hard on his chest and elbows. Choking and gasping for breath, he turned his head to the side just enough to see Allura throw the Galra clear across the bridge, her flying figure knocking the other Altean female and two of the paladins to the floor.  

 _You have to keep moving,_ Lotor reflected, head still swimming. Self-preservation drowned pain. He started to crawl, dragging himself to the wall of the hallway just outside the bridge before he heard the door zip shut behind. He heard footsteps. _They’re coming. She won’t forgive you._

“I’m sealing them in!” Allura shouted. It was just her again. “Lotor, are you alright?” He heard buttons being pressed on the keypad, and then her hands returned to his body. He nearly felt hopeful at her warmth. “Lotor, please, are you alright?” she repeated, peeling his shirt away from his burned skin to look at the lacerations more carefully. That alone stung enough that he wanted to collapse.

 _No! You have to get away!_ “Allura…” he croaked. If he could just get her alone, once he had healed, he could explain. He could convince her of his imperative. “We must leave at once.” His voice sounded dry and panicked even to him. It wasn’t assuring. _Breathe. Take control._

“We must get you to a cryopod,” she corrected, dropping his shirt. “Can you stand?”

“No, Allura, please… We have to go.” Lotor pushed up from his elbows to his hands, claws fully extended. He positioned a knee under himself for support as Allura slipped her arms around his chest for reinforcement. “We have to leave the ship.” The tears had stopped––his vision cleared enough for him to focus on Allura’s face. Her expression was one of sincere concern tinged with befuddlement.

“We will do no such thing. Something is very wrong here.” She hauled him upright with ease and the sudden tautness in his body tugged at his wound. He gasped and started coughing again, frustrated with her belligerence even in the face of her worry for him.

“Yes, we––” Before Lotor could further steer her towards flight, a high-pitched whine came from the door to the bridge. Allura rotated, half-dragging Lotor to turn him too, and they froze as a set of glowing fingertips pierced the material of the door and began to draw a shoddy smoking circle. Lotor felt like vomiting again. “Allura, we _must_ go. Please, we need to get to Sincline.”

“Why is Shiro––?” The handcut door was halfway complete. Lotor tried to drag Allura away from it with a step, but nearly collapsed again as a fresh wave of anguish flooded his body, emanating from his ribcage. Allura barely caught him and swung him up into her arms like a child before he could protest.

“That isn’t your paladin,” he said in a rasping tone. Allura’s face snapped to align with his, expression full of confusion, and Lotor poured every ounce of pitiful desperation that he could into his eyes, praying that they might sway her when she searched them. It wasn’t a challenge, given the reality of his desperation. “Princess, please. It isn’t safe here.”

Sighing and biting her lip, Allura glanced at the nearly demolished bridge doors and nodded. With that, she adjusted his weight in her arms and took off down the same hallway that Lotor had earlier admired at a steady jog.

Though he appreciated Allura’s strength, Lotor’s body suffered greatly from her stride. With each shift of her hips, a sway he had longed for only vargas before, she jostled his form and further irritated the injury the faux-paladin had inflicted. Its cauterized glow was eerie, bathing Lotor’s core in light through his now tattered shirt. With every ripple of suffering and nausea that it sent out he felt himself lose consciousness, only to be reawakened by Allura’s motion.

“Lotor,” she panted, unaware of the extent of his strife, “Do you know what’s going on with the others?” His eyes were closed and he was trying hard to regulate his breathing to relieve pressure on his lungs. He didn’t want to answer her, but knew he needed to say something soon to keep her on track. “I think there was an Altean there… How is that possible?”

The emperor knew that the number of her questions would only continue to grow if he didn’t negate their conversation quickly. Sighing shakily, he reached up, stroked her cheek, and wrapped an arm around her neck for support. “Please… just get us to Sincline. I can explain everything once we’re off the ship.”

Her brow furrowed and she opened her mouth to press further, but she was silenced by a loud, reverberating thud from behind them––the bridge doors had been penetrated. Allura twisted to glance over her shoulder while still trotting, then spun back to face forward in the nick of time. She had nearly run straight into the corner of an intersection in the hall. Still, she tripped in dodging the sharp edge and the shift of her body weight used to catch her balance rolled Lotor lower into her arms, his body caving in and throwing off his already precarious breathing. He spiraled into a coughing fit. It didn’t pass and he clutched at his demolished side. The pain was blossoming, widening, and infecting his ability to function on any normal level.

_If I had just kept my quiznacking armor on!_

Allura ducked around a corner into a dimly lit alcove as Lotor continued to expectorate. She lowered him to the ground gingerly and pulled his shirt over his head, forcing his arms to stretch. Under different conditions, Lotor might have been aroused. In that moment, however, moving his arms upwards only jerked his skin again, straining it around the glowing gouges. His eyelids were barely hovering around half-mast as he fought to remain conscious, crashing through the waves of feverish sickness. At the very least, his pain quelled his cough.

“Lotor, please, let me take you to a cryo-replenisher,” Allura begged, seating herself behind him and guiding his torso onto her lap. She caressed his neck, but not with the ardor of their previous time together. She was afraid. Her palm settled in place and Lotor could feel it trembling. The fingers of her other hand skirted around his wounds and he watched them dance there. Were they glowing, or was he just imagining it? “Your condition is worsening.”

 _Oh, I hadn’t noticed,_ he thought bitterly.

Lotor could feel his body shutting down, but his request remained the same. “There isn’t time, Allura, please… just take me to Sincline. We can use its medical bay.”

The trembling in her hand seemed to diminish. “Why are you so determined to leave? You’d be safest in a sleep pod. What aren’t you telling me?” she probed with firm persistence. Lotor forced his eyes all the way open to examine her. Suspicion toyed with her mesmerizing features, but the pools of her eyes were still full of compassion. She loved him, but he was losing her.

Was now the time, then? Now, dying in her arms? Lotor hated the concept of his vulnerability, even as it waxed. He was inept without Allura’s aid. Telling her any form of the truth now would be suicide. But maybe it was the only choice––was it better to die here, confessing his secrets in the arms of his paramour or in strangled silence at the hands of a clone? Lotor managed to catch Allura’s free hand and held it to his bare chest, savoring its simple beauty for a moment more before it could be ripped away from him. He closed his eyes, breathing heavily and reaching a resolution, but his thought pattern was interrupted by Coran’s voice, booming over the intercom: “The hangar’s been breached!”

An attack on all fronts, then––Haggar must have sent reinforcements for her duplicated Shiro. Lotor’s slim hopes of escaping with Allura were dwindling rapidly, and he reached a point of further resolve in the face of inevitable annihilation. He opened his mouth to spit out his soul for the princess, but was abruptly muted by her fingers on his lips. She commanded his silence. His long ears were straining to pick up what she must hear so clearly, but he finally latched onto a repetitive sound––the sound of heavy feet marching steadily down the main hall behind them.

The black paladin was near.  

With graceful stealth and contrary gentility, Allura stuffed Lotor’s dilapidated shirt into his mouth to smother his cries and climbed to her feet, hooking her hands under the emperor’s arms and dragging him further into the darkness of the alcove towards a door.  

At that point, Lotor’s entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames. Every inch was screaming. The gag did indeed reduce his noise output but only marginally, and through the blur of his fading vision he could see the glow of the clone’s arm illuminating the hallway. It started to move more quickly as Shiro locked onto his target. Allura’s lugging of Lotor’s body sped up. Lotor heard the whoosh of the door behind them and was aware that they had passed through only once he saw it close in front of him, obstructing his hazy view of Shiro. Allura lowered him to the ground again, quick but careful, and dashed to the keypad by the door, inputting a code to seal herself in what appeared to be the kitchen with Lotor, the hapless leader of the Galra people.

Lotor was overcome with guilt and exhaustion.

Ticks later, Allura’s face flooded his vision. She started stroking his hair with jittery fingers in a way that Lotor knew was intended to be soothing for him but was clearly only compulsive for her. It didn’t matter, though. He couldn’t feel it anyway. All of his senses were waning. His hearing was almost entirely gone, he realized, as he couldn’t hear the words that Allura’s lips were most certainly forming. All other sound was replaced by a low-pitched ringing and a rhythmic pounding on the kitchen door.

Unsure if he was dying or just finally fainting, Lotor drank in the deep tones of Allura’s eyes and the curves of her features. He inwardly begged the Ancients that he’d get to see them again. The princess’s hands rested on Lotor’s numb cheeks and he wondered if he’d ever get to press his mouth to hers once more––he shouldn’t have dismissed the opportunity earlier.

For the first time in his endless life, Lotor was slammed with an understanding of mortality. He didn’t want to perish. He wanted more time. He’d been living his life like it could be thrown away, even when he had purpose.

 _What a foolish creature,_ he thought of himself as the last of his sight was replaced by a coal-flecked white fog that shifted to grey and then finally to total black.

When Lotor awoke, it was with a start and a sharply drawn breath, accompanied by a head spinning lack of awareness for the passage of time. Allura was still there where he’d left her, cradling his head, but decaphoebs or doboshes could have passed without his knowing. As she pulled her hands back from his face, however, Lotor knew that he hadn’t imagined the earlier glow of her fingers––now he recognized it as the afterglow of quintessence, poured from her soul.

Allura’s gaze flicked up, towards the door, and she gulped before looking back to her lover. She smiled at him and returned to petting his hair, peacefully now, but her eyes were wet and untouched by her grin. Her posture suggested exhaustion and Lotor became suddenly aware of his utter lack of pain. She had healed him at the expense of her own energy. He reached up to touch her, savoring the return of this scene and his opportunity to be with her––he praised life. The intensity of his love for her was all-consuming and slowed his mind and motions on a detrimental level.

Shiro’s fist struck the side of Allura’s head with a jarring amount of strength and a disgusting thump that spun her to the right and sent her sprawling, ripping her out from under Lotor. The emperor’s head bounced on the cold kitchen floor at the same time as the princess’s, and before he could right himself and leap to defend his beloved, the clone’s boot clad foot connected with his temple.

Darkness returned.


	3. Foolish Creature

Allura regained consciousness face down on the cold floor of the Castle’s kitchen, her body splayed unnaturally, frozen the way she’d fallen. Her head felt like it had been cleaved in two across a transverse plane. Groaning, she pushed herself upright into a sitting position, trying to remember how she’d ended up where she was.

It all came back when she noticed the tattered sleep shirt discarded on her lap.

“Lotor!” she squeaked, looking around frantically. He was gone. “No! Please, no!” She jumped to her feet and swayed from the motion, grabbing hold of a counter while the blood rushed to her head. She edged along the surface as quickly as she could, making her way to a small console built into the wall beneath the door’s keypad. Her head was still spinning but she managed to recall the correct keycode which allowed one to activate the security display from anywhere in the Castle. It was a feature she’d had Coran add shortly after Lotor’s surrender and capture. Then, she’d been suspicious of his motives and wanted to be able to observe him from any given room. Now, she used the camera system to search desperately, hoping to save him from some unknown fate.

Jumping from display to display quicker than an angry klanmüirl, she felt her lungs constricting. No sign of Lotor or Shiro. Was she too late? How long had she been unconscious? Nearing tears of frustration, Allura froze––there! Lotor’s limp form was draped over Shiro’s broad shoulder like his height and weight posed no challenges. They were approaching the hangar!

The kitchen was on the other side of the Castle from the hangar––she wouldn’t make it in time. Allura tapped the intercom and shouted into it, praying that any of the paladins would hear her and act accordingly, “Shiro’s gone mad! He’s escaping with Lotor! Stop him before he leaves the ship!” She heard her own voice echo over the speaker system nearby, and the reverberations of her terrified tone triggered Allura’s adrenaline rush. Seconds later, Shiro dashed into the hangar and was followed almost immediately by Pidge, her bayard in hand.

 _Please, Pidge, hurry!_ Allura thought, and then decided that she could not wait around and watch how things played out. She knew she couldn’t make it to the hangar quickly enough to stop Shiro’s departure, but if the green paladin could just pin him down for a few ticks…

Allura didn’t think any further, she just sprinted. Though she knew her away around the Castle of Lions better than she knew her way around her own mind, she bounced off of walls, tripped on the long hem of her nightgown, skidded on well-worn patches of the marble floor, and knocked over multiple decorative features in her haste. Her body ached almost as much as her head and she was certain that her energy level had been sapped from her efforts to heal Lotor, but she _had_ healed him successfully. That was all that mattered.

 _He will be alright,_ she thought frantically. _He was whole. If Shiro didn’t kill him, he can resist when he wakes._ “If Shiro didn’t kill him” seemed like a lofty hope. _Don’t think like that. Shiro is not evil… But Lotor said that he wasn’t the paladin she knew?_ Allura was aware that the others had been prepared to confront Lotor upon their return, though she couldn’t fathom why, but Shiro’s actions appeared to have surprised everyone. Perhaps Lotor had been right about him, even through a pain-induced stupor. But then who was currently carrying the Galra emperor around like a bushel of shoom fruit?

Allura’s feet pounded on the cold stone ground––she was more than halfway there. However, had she remained in the kitchen for only ticks longer to watch the camera display, the princess would have seen Lotor loaded unceremoniously into a pod, and Pidge, staring down her father figure, unwilling to shoot. Allura was too late, and perhaps part of her knew it. She flew into the hangar and nearly crashed into the chest of the same Galran female she’d tossed across the bridge only doboshes ago. Allura pulled back her fist but paused at the sound of her name, shouted by a familiar and distinctive voice.

Keith’s order to stop impeded her intent but not her motion. Instead of attacking the Galra, Allura just shoved her out of the way to better take in the view of the launch pads. One of their Altean pods was missing, and the floor of the hangar and its doors were riddled with holes and dents. The Sincline ships were gone… and so was Lotor.

“No!” Allura screeched, whirling around to face the diminutive green paladin whose eyes had widened to a saucer-like state. “Pidge! What happened? You let Shiro take him! We must pursue––” Her fingers were digging into the girl’s shoulders and she was shaking her in fear and frustration until Keith again demanded that she stop.

“Allura! Wait. Let Pidge go, she didn’t do anything wrong.” Allura spun defiantly to look at him, only now she had to look up. Had he been that tall before? “Princess… We’ll get them back… But first, there’s someone you have to meet.” He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the shredded hangar doors. Keith’s voice was so calm that Allura nearly imploded. Someone to meet!? This wasn’t the time for introductions––it was time for aggressive, swift, and violent action. Lotor was in danger, for quiznaking sake! Did no one realize the importance of that? How dare Keith redirect her from her tirade and her desire to chase after her kidnapped beau?  

Allura jerked away from the ex-paladin’s touch, distraught. “There is no time for this!”

Pidge caught her arm instead and spoke in rapid earnesty. “Alteans, Allura. There are thousands of them. Lotor lied to you––to all of us.” The princess took in each little fragment of that statement slowly, trying to comprehend what she was hearing through a red-tinted miasma of irritation.

“Alteans…?” she stammered, searching Pidge’s eyes for signs of honesty before looking to Keith for confirmation. At the mention of her ancient race, Allura’s mind lagged. “Lotor…?”

“There’s a whole colony of your people, hidden on a planet no one would ever find,” said the stately female Galran, stepping up behind the previous red paladin with her arms crossed. “We brought one of them back to meet you. She has an important story to share.”

Trying to force her brain to reactivate and function clearly, Allura frowned. The female was wearing a traditional Galra military uniform with markings which denoted her as a lieutenant. Why on Arus was there a Galra lieutenant on Allura’s ship? Why had this soldier willingly attacked her emperor? “Pardon me, but who the quiznak are you?”

“This is Krolia. She’s with the Blade of Marmora. She’s also my mother.”

That strange reveal was the final straw for Allura––it was so nonsensical that she decided then and there that she was imagining this whole experience. Allura’s brow furrowed and she allowed the three others to convey her back to the bridge, sinking further and further into her thoughts with each step she took away from the numerous vehicles she might’ve used for pursuit.

The other members of the Castle’s crew were waiting for Allura, Keith, Pidge, and Krolia on the bridge, disheveled and nursing multiple small bumps and bruises. Had Shiro inflicted this damage? Shiro was known for his exhausting loyalty and compassion. He would never hurt his friends, and bringing Lotor so close to death seemed uncharacteristic as well––Allura had to be dreaming. _Perhaps this is a side effect of extended quintessence exposure,_ she pondered, trying to find rational explanations for this preposterous encounter in her mind. It was comforting too, in a way––if none of this was real then Lotor wasn’t gone. She didn’t need to be worried about his well-being if this was entirely falsified by the interaction of her imagination and an understudied energy source.

As they entered the bridge, its doors half open and missing a central circular portion, the others rushed to Allura’s side, touching her reassuringly and bothering her with questions that fell on deaf ears. She resisted the urge to snarl at them and spout accusations. Why had they treated Lotor so poorly? Ultimately, it didn’t matter because this was a dream. Instead, Allura tolerated their cooing and simply wished for them to leave her alone so that she might figure her way out of this absurdity. She wanted to be in her bed, in her suite, in Lotor’s lavender arms, in privacy. She wanted him to kiss her forehead while she held his hands and listened to his postulations for their future. Allura was dying to tell him about this insane hallucination of hers––he’d be fascinated, and they could spend vargas trying to interpret it together.

“Allura,” said Keith, pulling her from her thoughts and back to the unfolding nightmare. “This is Romelle.” He gestured to a young woman with blonde hair, pale blue Altean marks, and eyes that had witnessed countless horrors. She advanced and before Allura could question her motion, the girl leaned forward in an awkward and inexperienced bow.

“I am told you are the last remaining Altean royal,” she lilted. “It brings me great sorrow to only be meeting you now, under such circumstance.” Romelle, the Altean, had an accent that nearly brought Allura to tears––she hadn’t heard an accent like that in ten thousand years from anyone other than Coran. Romelle’s voice had the timbre of a dead society, but those prosodic features of hers were not individual. They were linguistic quirks learned from a now antiquated source.

 _This is happening_ . Allura was whalloped by reality and her knees nearly buckled from the mental and emotional impact of it. Everything she’d tried to credit to an adverse reaction to ancient magic was unfolding in front of her, genuine and true. Allura’s stomach flipped and her brain spun as she accepted her situation. _Alteans!_ If there truly was an Altean colony, one which may have existed since the destruction of Allura’s homeworld, judging by Romelle’s dialect, then perhaps all of Pidge’s earlier remarks had been true as well. _Lotor lied…?_

Romelle had righted herself and continued to divulge the relevant details of her life, dragging Allura through the grit of her story simply through the cadence of her articulation. Her story was significant, but it covered such an emotionally diverse range of facts––each one was more and more pertinent to the core of Allura’s personality that the princess felt herself collapsing inward. Allura finally settled into an paralysis accompanied by a steady ringing in her ears, and from there only certain phrases of Romelle’s pushed through to her consciousness––phrases like “monster,” “harvesting quintessence,” “killed my brother,” and “thousands of others.” As Romelle concluded, the burden of her tale seemed to pass to the princess––the young Altean reached out to take Allura’s hand and she whispered, “He manipulated us all.”

Less than a varga ago, Lotor had taken Allura’s hand in his in much the same way, his face exhibiting compassion, joy, and promise. Now, Allura’s friends asked her to believe that he was a cold-hearted killer? She’d never considered Lotor a saint, but a murderer? He wouldn’t––rather, couldn’t––have mislead her about that aspect of his character, Allira thought. She knew him too well. To claim that he’d willingly murdered Alteans, no less? Ridiculous! Her Lotor, a scholar and a scientist, would never discard the lives of the members of a culture he admired and identified with despite never experiencing it in its original form.

Here stood an Altean, however, insisting otherwise. Romelle’s existence and Keith’s endorsement of the observable facts of her account certainly suggested that Lotor had been keeping secrets. He’d conned Allura about something as significant as her race, her people––what else had he hidden?

 _He wanted to leave the Castle,_ Allura recalled, no longer hearing the comments of the others regarding Lotor’s betrayal and his similarities to his evil father. _He wanted to run away from the others…_ In the moment, Allura had attributed Lotor’s desperate pleas to distress over his injury and Shiro’s hunt, but now she understood why his requests hadn’t quite followed. He’d seen Romelle and wanted to leave the ship to avoid capture and exposure. He’d wanted to take the main Sincline ship specifically because it was strong enough to pose a threat to the Castle’s defense systems, and, Allura realized, it provided him with a fallback escape route via its access to the quintessence field. Lotor had promised to explain everything––Allura felt sure that he never would have. He would have ditched her in the hangar or perchance even tricked her into helping him attack the others in supposed self-defense.

Either way, he would have used her to his advantage. Again. Allura’s heart felt like it had been punctured by icy claws. The emotions she’d felt toward Lotor in the rift and directly afterwards, which she’d been so confident were genuine, were simply manufactured by him to achieve a long-term goal. He’d effectively found all of her weak spots and had twisted their circumstances to align with them, forming bonds. Lotor had even used their lost heritage––a common thread Allura had thought she’d never share with another being again––to enthrall her, while simultaneously ruling over a fragment of her people with false benevolence.

Clenching her hands into fists to restrain her tears, Allura finally gained a greater understanding of her friends’ distaste for the Alteans of the alternate reality, empathy instantaneously overshadowing sympathy. Those Alteans had used technology, something called a hoktril, to eradicate the free will of their enemies, creating slave-like puppets to serve their needs. Lotor had done the same to Allura, in a sense, but he hadn’t needed technology––he’d used love.

She had loved him. _You still love him,_ her mind lamented as her nails dug deeper into her palms. _Your feelings for him are real, whether his were or not._ Undeniably, Lotor had used Allura in a multitude of ways, but she couldn’t forget how he had built her up, educated her on so many fronts, and helped her grow as an individual. He’d made her feel whole simply by existing as a complementary component, and after learning of his Altean heritage she had never questioned him.

She had never questioned him. _What a fool I’ve been._ Guilt and self-loathing seeped in, clogging the growing hole in her heart.

“I played right into Lotor’s hands,” Allura murmured with quiet rumination. The power she’d given him in exchange for his guidance and companionship was alarming, and the theft of the Sincline ships by Lotor’s old generals, as Allura had been told, only added to that. The others fell quiet as she spoke, apparently thinking along the same lines. “This is entirely my fault.”

Stepping closer to her, Lance gripped her arm with reassuring delicacy. “Allura, it’s _not_ your fault. Lotor tricked all of us. Besides, nothing would have played out this way if Shiro hadn’t gone rogue.” Though Allura did appreciate Lance’s efforts to diffuse the responsibility of her egregious error, she realized that none of them were aware of just how wrapped up in Lotor she’d been. She’d played her cards close to her heart with everyone except Lotor––a mistake that she wanted to learn from but knew she’d abandon. For movements, Lotor had been the object of all of her imaginings, and that quintant those imaginings had come to fruition.

Things had not turned out the way she’d hoped.

“That brings up another question,” said Hunk, the left side of his face swollen and working its way towards a deep shade of aubergine. “Why did Shiro go rogue? Was he working with Lotor?”

Allura scowled, questioning the true extent of Lotor’s injuries at Shiro’s hands. Had he even needed her to heal him? She took a deep breath, trying to quell her growing personal doubt. Lotor’s lacerations had been legitimate and quite serious––it had taken a great deal of her energy to fix them. Shiro had attacked Lotor in earnest. But what had Lotor said? “No,” Allura disclosed, looking to Hunk. “Lotor said that that was not Shiro. It was… someone else. Additionally, the wounds he inflicted on Lotor were not the kind directed at an ally.”

Everyone was quiet for a tick, trying to decipher the truth in that. “If that wasn’t Shiro,” Keith started, and his face betrayed his fear for the black paladin, “Then who was it?” Allura wondered if Keith was in her position, his emotions towards a fake Shiro mirroring hers towards Lotor, who’d turned out to be a fake. No one seemed to have a good answer to his question, and so he continued. “Pidge, can you track that pod? The one they took?”

The tiny girl nodded, leaning over a console before Keith’s sentence was complete. “Yes… There they are. If we wormhole, I think we can catch up to them.” Allura’s heart, still cold and broken, began beating to the tune of retaliation. She wanted Lotor back––to make sure he was safe and to hear his side of the story. She was furious and hurting and didn’t know what she expected, but she would get her answers or she would kill her lover. Allura had mistakes to fix… but she still longed for this to simply be a hideous dream, one which she would wake up from shortly, curled against Lotor’s chest, confident in his affections.

“We’ll need Voltron to fight against Lotor’s ships.” Keith was right, of course. Allura didn’t know why Lotor’s generals might have stolen his Sincline ships but left him for Shiro, but she suspected the four vessels would indeed be found together.

Though Allura was dying to be alone to refine her thoughts, only progress could bring resolution. “Let’s go,” she asserted. Everyone sprang into action, and Keith assumed the responsibilities of the black paladin. Allura felt like she was trudging through sand. All of the purpose she’d felt earlier in the quintessence field had been sapped from her soul. Her sleep dress, now torn at the hem and bedraggled, trailed behind her, lower to the ground as a result of her deflated posture. She told the others that she’d meet them in the hangar in five doboshes and started towards her room, seeking a fresh uniform and a hair tie. Coran stopped her in the hallway only ticks later.

“Princess, are you alright?” he beseeched, voice soft and eyes compassionate. She searched his face silently, seeking his emotions as guidance for her own. She’d hoped in a twisted way to see her own distress reflected in him, but found instead a curious mix of suffering and elation. Whatever expression she made must have increased Coran’s anxiety, because he wordlessly crossed the distance between then and pulled Allura into a paternal hug. She resisted the urge to bawl as Coran murmured, “Everything will be okay, Allura,” and patted her back consolingly. When they parted she forced a smile to touch her lips, hoping to ease his sadness. It appeared to work.

As Allura continued to her room, her mind finally jumped from Lotor to the prospect of a universe that still possessed Alteans. To go from believing yourself to be one of two remaining full-blooded members of an ancient race to knowing you were one among many all along was quite an experience. Allura tried to find hope and joy in the idea of the return of her people, the way she imagined Coran had, but she only came away from the thought feeling melancholic. Those Alteans were only alive and gathered because of Lotor, and only really because Lotor sought the secret of life.

 _Why does he put so much stock in the value of quintessence?_ Allura wondered, adding the question to the mental list she was preparing for Lotor’s capture. The list continued to grow and she used it to distract herself from heartache as she changed, glanced forlornly at the holo-portrait of her parents on her bedside table, and began her return to the hangar. She waited for the others to slide down their shoots before following in her own. She boarded Blue and dropped into her seat, letting her head roll back and allowing her body to sink into the contours of the chair. It knew her form like no one else.

Only then, as she lingered there, was she hit with the throng of questions that she should have asked Lotor––questions ranging from his purpose to his feelings for her to his intent for their relationship. Allura thought about what might have been and wondered if Lotor would have taken his promise for a royal alliance to the most serious level. Or would he have forsaken their betrothal when he achieved his goals, tossing Allura by the wayside when she no longer held value for him?

With that thought and in the secure privacy of her lion, Allura finally let the tears cascade down her cheeks. The other paladins took off, none the wiser, and she followed, choosing to see through Blue’s eyes rather than her own damp ones. She muted her audio output speaker and sobbed throughout their formation of Voltron. Moisture pooled near the chin of her helmet as she rode along, weeping, a limp leg in a powerful figure. She yearned for peace of mind and found it only in the memory of the glittering quintessence orbs reflected in Lotor’s eyes.

 _No, don’t take solace in that,_ she told herself, shaking her head to banish the vision. Perhaps it was better for their relationship to have ended the way it did, now, before she could fall deeper under his spell.

 _You don’t believe that,_ she acknowledged, but the voice in her mind wasn’t hers––it was Lotor’s, as polished and velveteen as his snowy hair and as comforting as she’d ever hoped, guiding her heart like a compass stone. _He loves you_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really happy to have participated in this challenge and am looking forward to reading and seeing all of the other completed projects!
> 
> Although I'm out of practice and wish I'd done some things differently to further highlight the art, I enjoyed exploring the emotions that Lotor and Allura must have been experiencing in S6 in greater detail, and the added drama made it fun! Hope you enjoy it too! Thanks for reading!


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